Isolation (n.) is guilt, says the herd — and its voice still echoes in whoever leaves it, as lament and pain.
Isolation (n.) of the creative spirit is mistaken by the people for flight from reality, when it is his immersion in reality — so that he may bring home its redemption.
Isolation (n.) in its complete form alone made the resources of self-help discoverable, after years of torment that can match any ascetic's had purified and burnished the soul, so that religion and art were no longer needed for that end.
Isolation (n.) accepted as one's lot still needs a master of ceremonies, someone to put the right space and distance around one.
Isolation (n.) of this absurd kind comes from the perpetual lack of a refreshing and healing human love, until almost any remaining connection with people merely wounds.